Word of the Day DCU
by darke wulf
Summary: Drabbles of various lengths using dictionary dot com's "Words of the Day" as prompts. Please see individual stories for any specific warnings. Chapter 7 - Esurient - hungry, greedy. Gotham was an esurient mistress.
1. Day Seven: Predilection

Apologies but this chapter has been removed due to recent issues on fanfiction. I may repost it after editing out the potentially inflammatory parts, but until then you can read it in its delicious entirety on my LiveJournal page.

The link is located in my profile.

Again, sorry for the inconvenience.


	2. Day Ten: Gaucherie

_Disclaimer: Unless you don't recognize them, I don't own them. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment. _

_Characters are slightly OOC. I apologize in advance, but they were quite insistent. _

******

Day Ten: Gaucherie

\goh-shuh-REE\, noun;

1. A socially awkward or tactless act.

2. Lack of tact; boorishness; awkwardness.

******

Bruce surveyed the crowd disinterestedly, a flute of champagne in his hand. He was in the middle of a group of socialites, pretending to listen to Veronica Emerson detailing her month long excursion to the Hamptons.

A sudden commotion drew his attention to the doors, where Tony Stark was arriving, a blonde on each arm and five other women of various hair colors accompanying him as well.

A scoff at his side caused Bruce to look down at Veronica, who had an expression on disgust on her heavily made-up face. "What's **he** doing here?"

"One would imagine that, same as the rest of us," Bruce replied in a droll tone, "he's undoubtedly here to welcome you back from your trip."

"As if I would invite someone like **him** to one of **my** parties," she retorted, turning her nose up yet higher in the air, a feat which Bruce hadn't thought possible. "Brucie, be a dear and get rid of him."

Bruce didn't have to feign the incredulous look the appeared on his face at that. "Me? Why should I have to get rid of him? Don't you have security for such matters?"

"But that would cause such a scene!" Veronica cried, looking aghast. "I'd never live it down. You're business partners with him, surely you can get him to leave quietly."

"Veronica, darling," Bruce's voice lowered to a sultry purr, underhanded perhaps, but he was desperate, "you know Lucius handles all of those tedious details for me. I've only briefly met Mister Stark."

"Please Brucie? For me?" she fluttered her fake eyelashes at him in what he assumed she thought to be a beguiling manner, though to Bruce it just made her look as if she had a rather serious nervous tick.

Bruce sighed. At least this would give him an excuse to extricate himself from the group. "When you ask like that, how can I possibly even dream of refusing?"

A piercing squeal had him looking for a crime victim before he realized it was only Veronica. "Thank you, Brucie! I knew I could count on you."

"Of course," he smiled, then turned on a heel and made his way over to Tony, fighting to keep the vapid playboy expression on his face.

Arriving at Tony's side, he grasped the man by the upper arm. "Excuse me, ladies. I need to have a word with your date for a moment."

He pulled the other man as far away from the other revelers as possible, backing up into an interior corner of the room. "Tony," he mumbled under his breath, tightening his grip on the man's arm, "what the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Why Brucie, whatever do you mean?" Tony asked, bringing his free hand up to his heart, "I'm here to give my best wishes to our dear Miss Emerson, of course."

Unfortunately for Tony, his innocent act hadn't worked against Bruce…ever…"Hmm. I thought you had office meetings back in Malibu this afternoon and all day tomorrow?"

"Ah, actually something came up," Tony replied, shrugging his shoulders and freeing himself from Bruce's hold. "I was in Metropolis on…other business…when I found out about this little soiree. How could I possibly pass up one of Veronica's famous parties? Particularly when they're always accompanied by such lively entertainment, or so I'm told."

"What are you talking about, Tony?" Looking at the other man in confusion.

"Why Bruce, hadn't you heard? It seems dear little Veronica has decided it's time for her to settle down. I have it from reliable sources that at the last four parties you have both attended, she's followed you around like a lost little puppy, determined to prove just how perfect she is for the position of Mrs. Bruce Wayne."

Bruce sighed, "Tony, you and I both know I'm not going to marry her…"

"Damn straight," Tony growled, emphasizing each word with a poke to Bruce's chest. "That doesn't mean I want to hear any more stories about her irritatingly determined pursuit of you, however."

"You know Tony, your jealousy would almost be cute, if it weren't for the fact that you brought your own harem."

"Brucie, Brucie, Brucie," Tony gave a put-upon sigh, "you have no appreciation for subtleties. These women are our interference…our distractions…our means of a scott-free getaway."

"What?" Bruce asked, not sure he really wanted to know what cockamamie plan his lover had concocted this time, but unable to resist.

"You really need to pay more attention to the interactions among our peers," Tony sniffed. "The women I brought are all from Metropolis."

Bruce just continued to give an unimpressed stare. "So?"

"So?! So…no Gotham woman worth her trust fund is going to admit to losing out to a woman from Metropolis, and vise versa. Old money stuck up bitches versus nuevo rich stuck up bitches…the end result being we win. If asked, not a one of them are going to admit to not spending a fabulous evening with one…or both…of us, for fear that it was really the other set of beauties we spent our time with. Which leaves us entirely free for the evening, and yet our sterling reputations remain intact."

Tony really did look far too smug at that moment…though Bruce had to admit it was a good look for him. Still…

"Excellent. I can start patrol early tonight. I got wind of trouble down on the docks, and could use the extra time to do a more thorough reconnaissance of the area."

Tony's smug look turned decidedly irritated. Success.

"Don't even **think** about it, Bruce. You and I are going back to your manor and we are going to spend the rest of the night having wild, crazy sex until I am absolutely positive you remember just who you belong to!"

Bruce was tempted to take exception to that statement, but the promise of sex…particularly sex that **Tony Stark** of all people would consider wild and crazy…was just too tempting. Without a word, he turned and headed for the nearest exit, doing his best to remain unnoticed. Tony followed close behind him as they left the room.

"Tony..."

"Yes, love?"

"Stop groping my ass."

"Yes, love."


	3. Day Sixteen: Burgeon

_Disclaimer: Unless you don't recognize them, I don't own them. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment. _

_This takes place after Bruce has returned to Gotham and taken up as Batman, but before Tony becomes Ironman. _

_It's quite likely that this will eventually develop into a series of drabbles expounding on the 'burgeoning' relationship between Bruce and Tony, but we'll see how things go. _

_A large amount of credit for the inspiration for this goes to destinyawakened, who's working on an excellent first meetings story of her own, which can be found on her livejournal wayne_stark (see the friends' page on my livejournal, the link for which is on my profile page)__._

******

Day Sixteen: Burgeon

\BUR-juhn\,

Verb:

1. To grow or develop quickly; flourish.

2. To begin to grow or blossom.

Transitive Verb:

1. To put forth, as buds.

Noun:

1. A bud; sprout.

******

The first time Tony Stark met Bruce Wayne it was only Pepper's hand firmly grasping the back of his suit coat that kept him from leaping across the table to strangle the bastard.

******

"No."

Tony's mouth gaped open as he stared incredulously at the man sitting across the conference room table, dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal gray suit with an indigo blue shirt underneath with a dark navy tie. Tony himself was wearing a black shirt with a patterned black-on-black tie and a terribly expensive dark burgundy suit.

"Are you cra…" A sharp elbow from Pepper into his side aborted Tony's initial reaction.

"Listen bas…" Another elbow had him covertly rubbing his side while sighing, "Mister Wayne. I'm not sure that you understand just how lucrative an offer Stark Industries is making Wayne Enterprises."

Tony had heard all the gossip about the flighty, naïve, dumb-as-a-rock…but drop-dead gorgeous…Prince of Gotham, but he hadn't actually believed it until that moment. Right. Speak slowly and try to use small words…

"We're talking about a government contract worth a **guaranteed** twelve billion for the development…" Was development too difficult a word? "Err…figuring out how to make the robots…alone. That doesn't include the actual sale of the robots themselves…"

"And Stark Industries, not having the resources or infrastructure required for such an endeavor, is so desperate to get Wayne Enterprises on board that you have practically offered us the opportunity to name our cut. I know, Mister Stark," Wayne told him, looking decided unimpressed. "Lucius has explained your offer to me. The answer is still no."

"How the **hell** can you turn down this offer?! It's a once in a lifetime opportunity!" Pepper's hand moved from Tony's back to his knee where she dug in with her nails.

"Tony!" she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

There was no reaction to Tony's outburst from Wayne, surprisingly, though Fox's face tightened up, as if he were fighting down a frown. Tony had no idea why **he** would be upset with him for stating the truth. Surely a man of Fox's intelligence could see the offer for the incredible opportunity it was. He could only imagine how difficult it must be for the man to work for someone as obviously dense as Wayne.

"The contract you presented to us," Wayne spoke, gesturing to, and no doubt reading from, the set of documents in front of him, "is an offer to assist with the development of robotic fighters with various armament fittings ranging up to and including nuclear devices." Looking back up from the papers, he met Tony's eyes with a hard stare, "Wayne Enterprises does not make weapons. Period."

Tony was honestly left speechless at that. How could this man not understand…didn't feel the rush of adrenaline from winning a contract like this, proving your company to be the best out of all the others that had tried for it? Did the prospect of this challenge, developing equipment that the world had never seen before, not excite him at all?

Snorting, Tony realized whom exactly he was thinking about. Wayne's biggest challenge in life was probably getting his shoes on the right feet in the morning.

Thoroughly disappointed and more than a little disgusted, Tony's erratic temper was lit. "I know what this is about. Tell me, Mister Wayne, are you really willing to let your company miss out on this offer just because you're still hung up on your parents' murder?"

"Tony!" There was nothing muttered about Pepper's reprimand this time.

Curiously, however, while Fox was obviously livid, Wayne showed almost no true reaction to his dig. Given what Tony had heard and surmised of the man, he was certain that that last crack would have had him foaming at the mouth. Sure, the guy was frowning at him evilly, but it was almost as if he was playing at being upset. None of the emotions on his face touched his eyes at all.

In fact, thinking back on it, the only genuine emotion Tony did remember seeing in them throughout this whole meeting was boredom and impatience. Not exactly what one would expect from an insipid playboy. Hmm…

"I assure you, that has nothing to do with my decision," Wayne spat out between clenched teeth. Though again, it was more like an actor reciting his lines than a guy who'd just had his dead parents thrown in his face.

"You do know that it wasn't actually the gun that killed them. It was the psycho behind the gun," Tony continued to push, intrigued by this new puzzle that had unexpectedly been presented to him. Twin gasps of outrage followed his shot.

"Mister Wayne, I am **so** sorry…"

"Mister Stark, I think it would be best if you…"

Pepper's apology and Fox's lecture were both interrupted by Wayne. "I would think I should know that better than you, Mister Stark, having been there." Now their spectators shifted their shocked gazes to Wayne, but he continued unperturbed, "As far as your offer goes, I'm sure that Lexcorp or any one of a number of other companies would be more than happy to deal with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hair appointment in thirty minutes, so I'll be wishing you a good day."

With that Wayne rose from his chair, a pleasantly vapid smile on his face, holding his right hand towards Tony. Accepting the handshake, Tony met Wayne's eyes, trying to see any real emotion in them. As before, however, they were absolutely dead.

Releasing his hand, Wayne made his way around the table toward the door. As he neared Pepper's seat he paused. "Miss Potts, it was a pleasure to meet you," he purred in his deep voice, holding his hand out to her as well. When she placed her hand into his, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it before releasing it again. "Perhaps we can meet again under less…tedious…circumstances."

Pepper blushed…actually blushed!…and replied, "It was nice to meet you as well, Mister Wayne. And I'm sorry for Tony…"

"Please, Miss Potts," Wayne smiled that meaningless smile again, though Pepper seemed impressed, "no apologies are needed, particularly not from you. Though, if you're that concerned about it, I'd be willing to accept dinner tonight in lieu of your apology…"

"Ah," Pepper fumbled, blush deepening, "I…that is…thank you for the offer, Mister Wayne. But we'll be leaving for Malibu as soon as this meeting is wrapped up."

"That's too bad," Wayne replied, straightening back up from leaning closer to Potts, "perhaps next time, then."

"Err…perhaps…"

"Excellent!" he cried, as if he actually expected her to look him up the next time she was in Gotham. "Lucius," he intoned, nodding to the other man, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good day, Mister Wayne," Fox answered, returning the nod from his seat.

With that Wayne swept from the room, and two gazes, irate and disbelieving respectively, were focused on Tony.

"Mister Stark, Miss Potts," Fox acknowledged, rising himself. He paused, seeming to consider what exactly he wanted to say as he made his way over to the door, finally settling for, "I hope you have a safe flight back to Malibu."

"Thank you, Mister Fox," Tony replied, echoed by Pepper. Fox just continued to look at them, clearly unimpressed.

Then he leaned out of the door slightly, calling to one of the receptionists, "Miss Weisman, could you come here for a moment please?"

Tony and Pepper stood up and started gathering their things. A short thirty-something brunette appeared in the doorway.

"Miss Weisman here will show you your way out. I'm afraid I have to run off to another meeting. Good day to you both." No sooner had Fox stopped talking than he was out of the room, briskly making his way down the hallway, deeper into the building.

As they walked towards the building's exit, Tony could **feel** Pepper vibrating from the aggravation of holding back the no doubt epic lecture she was dieing to give him. Still, he couldn't find it in him to regret his actions. Sure, Wayne refused the contract, but Tony had found a new puzzle to work on, which meant the trip wasn't completely wasted.

As they crossed the atrium to get to the front doors, Tony took one final look back at the building proper. A flash of blue on the third floor balcony that overlooked the atrium caught his eye. Shifting his gaze, he saw Wayne leaning against the railing, watching them leave. His entire face completely devoid of any sort of emotion save a look of intense thought which, from his reputation, should have looked completely foreign on his face.

Surprisingly, Tony found that instead, it was the most…natural…he had seen Wayne look.

How terribly intriguing…


	4. Reverie

_Disclaimer: Unless you don't recognize them, I don't own them. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment. _

_You'll note I've stopped including the day number for the word of the day – including them was just winding up to be too confusing, as I tend to jump around depending on which words inspire me more and/or the length of the fics associated with particular words._

_This was not meant to be a part of my "Burgeoning Affections" series, though I supposed it could be at some point in the future._

******

Word of the Day: Reverie

\REV-uh-ree\, noun:

1. A state of dreamy meditation or fanciful musing.

2. A daydream.

3. A fantastic, visionary, or impractical idea.

4. _Music._ An instrumental composition of vague and dreamy character.

******

Tony wasn't sure what had awakened him at three in the morning. It certainly was far earlier than he was used to getting up. His mind was still wrapped in the comforting warm cotton of sleep, but paranoia built in equal parts from his time as a hero and his time as the lover of the man beside him had him surveying the dark bedroom for threats.

Once he had reassured himself that there was no danger waiting to spring from a shadow he turned his attention to his lover. Tony decided he might as well get something out of this anomaly – rare indeed were those chances he had to observe his lover relaxed in sleep. Usually Bruce was well into his day by the time Tony dragged himself out of their bed.

In a moment of nonsensicality Tony found himself wishing for that stray moonbeam that always seemed to appear at just the right moment in any romance novel worth its salt – not that he was in the habit of reading Pepper's romance novels. But Bruce did look magnificent by moonlight.

Unlike Ironman, with his bright, gleaming armor…unlike Tony himself with his outgoing, eccentric personality…Bruce was very much a creature of the night. Even out of the Batman costume, the night embraced Bruce Wayne. Already pale skin became white, crisscrossed with silvery scars that told of a lifetime of dedication. Deep blue eyes, capable of piercing through the toughest of mental defenses, darkened to a near black – very similar to how they looked under the heat of passion, now that Tony considered it.

Ah, Bruce in the heat of passion. Now **that** was a sight to behold. All that power and intensity – not to mention the attention to detail – made for one hell of a lover. Not that Bruce Wayne would ever settle for being less than perfect at anything.

Carefully Tony shifted a little, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on a certain gradually awakening part of his anatomy without waking the notoriously light sleeper beside him.

A large, callused hand wrapping around his shaft let him know that he had failed in that endeavor. Not that he was particularly upset about it. Perfection was Bruce's thing.

"Tony," Bruce rumbled, deep voice heavy with sleep as he started to lazily run his hand up and down Tony's now very awake cock, "what are you doing up at…four AM?"

"Un…" It took Tony a minute to bring enough brain cells into play to answer Bruce's question. "I was just…ah, yes…thinking 'bout…harder, dammit!…how pretty you look…ng…'n moonlight…please!"

Bruce's hand paused, much to Tony's distress, and he looked at the other man in confused bemusement before looking around the room, noting that the shades were still in place over the windows.

"Tony, there's no moonlight in the room."

"So," Tony replied, moving his hips in an effort to encourage Bruce to continue with his ministrations, "doesn't change the fact that you look gorgeous under it."

Bruce could only shake his head, though he did take pity on his lover and start stroking again. "I'm never going to understand how your mind works, am I?"

"Do you really want to? Yes, like that!"

"I suppose you have a point," Bruce chuckled. Then slowly, with a deliciously wicked grin, he began to slide down Tony's body.

Yes Tony decided, in what was the last coherent thought he had for the rest of the night, heat-of-passion!Bruce was definitely his favorite.

Maybe he'd have to wake up at three more often.


	5. Bifurcate

Disclaimer: Unless you don't recognize them, I don't own them. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment.

_I'll be honest; this sounded a lot better in my head. I'm not at all happy with out it came out, but I've tried improving it with little success. I'm hoping my current foul mood is making it seem worse than it is._

******

Day Fourteen: Bifurcate

\BY-fur-Kayt; by-FUR-kayt\,

Transitive verb: To divide into two branches or parts

Intransitive verb: To branch or separate into two parts.

Adjective: Divided into two branches or parts; forked.

******

Pairings: Kal-El/ Bruce, Clark/ Lois

******

Kal-El appreciated Bruce Wayne's analytical ardor. There were no cloyingly sweet declarations of love, no easily counterfeited vows of adoration. As rich as Bruce was, material gifts meant very little to him. He was all too aware just how easy it was to buy meaningless trinkets.

No, Bruce Wayne proved his love through his every action.

Bruce did not expect to be pampered; in fact he fought against such treatment. He was perfectly able to take care of and provide for himself, and he resented insinuations otherwise. Kal had to put great thought into any gift he gave Bruce. At first it had been somewhat irksome but after some time – and after realizing that Bruce put equal or even more thought into those gifts he gave – Kal found that he appreciated the added worth of such gifts. To see that small yet delighted grin curl Bruce's lips because of him…very little warmed Kal's heart more.

For Bruce, their love was not something to be shared with the masses. He did not need or want acknowledgment for dating 'Superman.' Those important to him were aware, and that was all that mattered.

Kal actually found himself wishing that even those few had been left in the dark. While Bruce's brusque, stubborn manner often caused feelings of frustration in his family, his unwavering devotion to those he loved caused them to jealously guard against the infiltration of those deemed unworthy into their select group. And Kal-El, with the complicated duality that was his life, was deemed unworthy by all of the Bat Clan. Even the always-understanding Alfred and Dick, who had worshipped Superman as a child, were firm in their belief that Bruce's relationship with Kal would only lead to pain for their son and father.

Kal could understand their concerns. Unlike Bruce, he could not promise fidelity in anything but spirit. He wasn't even the dominant soul in his body – weeks could go by while he remained trapped beneath a timid, self-depreciating veneer. But Kal was too selfish to let Bruce go. Having experienced that devotion first hand, he could not give it up. It was as vital to him as the air he breathed. It made his troubled, lonesome existence worth living.

******

Clark Kent loved Lois Lane's emotional nature. She effused daily her love of Clark, reassuring him of his place in her life. Clark did not have to try to interpret what she felt or wanted – she made no secret of either.

Lois let Clark spoil her. He enjoyed buying things for her, rather for special occasions or on the spur of the moment. Seeing her delighted smile, hearing her gushing words of thanks – her happiness brought him joy and pride.

Lois was not ashamed of their relationship. Regardless of whose company they were in, she did not hesitate in holding Clark's hand, kissing him, or telling him how much she loved him. It made Clark more confident in their love, that she was so willing to share it with others.

All of their friends and family commented on how lucky they each were. Granted, most thought it was Clark who was lucky to have a woman like Lois accept his suit, but the easy acceptance of their relationship soothed Clark's own uncertainty. He loved Lois…he had loved her for a very long time. And now his years of devotion had finally paid off. His life was finally complete…almost…

******

And so Clark and Kal carried on, each with their own lover, both content in their own lives.

Then Clark asked Lois to marry him. When she said yes, he worried that he would burst at the supreme happiness that filled him. Strangely, however, deep in his mind, a sense of foreboding and heartbreak bloomed. As Lois threw herself into his arms, marveling at the ring he had presented her, he forcefully pushed those negative emotions as far back as he could, concentrating instead on his fiancé.

When he was finally able to see Bruce again, Kal realized that – much as he had feared – he had discovered a second line that Bruce Wayne would not cross.


	6. Incarnadine

_Disclaimer: __Unless you don't recognize them, I don't own them. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment._

_This was written for the "Old" challenge on the Wayne-Stark Livejournal site. I'd highly recommend said site for any fans of the pairing. You can find them via the friends' page on my own Livejournal, the link for which can be found on my profile._

_It also fits into my "Word of the Day" works. This particularly story was based off the word:_

Incarnadine

_\in-KAR-nuh-dyn\_

_Adjective, verb:_

_1. Having a fleshy pink color._

_2. Red; blood red._

_Transitive verb: To make red or crimson._

******

Old and Grey

by: darke wulf

There was so much blood. Already the fabric covering Bruce's chest was darkened with the liquid, the bat symbol almost indistinguishable against the now nearly black uniform. And still it oozed from the gaping wound. The metallic smell sickened him, causing his stomach to rebel.

Several feet away the crumpled, broken form of the Joker lay like a discarded toy. Tony wasn't sure if he had been the one to kill the man or not. Everything after seeing Bruce falling from the rafters - a dark angel with broken wings - was nothing more than a blur of pain, fury and anguish.

"You can't die, B," Tony cried, tightening his hold on the other man as if to anchor his spirit - to prevent him from leaving. "You can't do this to me. We were supposed to grow old and grey together."

Tony's breath caught on a sob as he reached for the black cowl, desperate to see his lover's face, to look into those fathomless blue eyes that had first drawn him to the man.

They had been so happy. Less than three hours ago they had been enjoying a quiet night at Bruce's manor.

How had things gone so wrong?

******

It had been date night when the call had come in that the Injustice Gang was causing trouble in Metropolis. Curled up together on Bruce's couch, they were contentedly digesting another one of Alfred's masterful dinners while a Mythbusters' marathon – Bruce's choice – played on the plasma television hanging on the wall. A seldom known air of contentment permeated the room. Bruce leant slightly into Tony, whose left arm stretched behind him along the top of the couch, his right holding a glass of scotch. Eventually Bruce would make another sortie in his endless battle against the alcohol, but at the moment he just couldn't be bothered.

Just as Jamie and Adam were getting ready to set sail in their duct tape sailboat Alfred walked in, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Sirs, but Mister J'onzz just called. He's indicated that it is vital he speaks to Master Bruce immediately."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Tony cried as Bruce disentangled himself from Tony's grasping arms. "What the hell have they managed to get themselves into now?"

Alfred looked over indulgently at Bruce's lover. Seeing how happy the other man had made his 'son' he was more than willing to forgive Tony's minor foibles – not that he planned to tell him that. Best to keep him on his toes. "He didn't say, Master Anthony, though he did sound quite anxious."

Tony grumbled as he stood from the couch and stomped after Bruce. "I swear, if the planet isn't in imminent danger of being blown up, there's going to be Martian guts painting the monitor womb red before the night is done."

"Actually, Martian guts are blue," Bruce commented dryly with a small smirk. "And after your temper tantrum the last time, I doubt J'onn would call unless it was an emergency."

"You make me sound like a spoiled brat," he pouted, though inside he was delighted that Bruce was still in such a good mood in spite of the interruption. It boded well for the rest of the night. Now Tony just had to get rid of a certain irritating alien…

"If the shoe fits…" Bruce shrugged as they entered the cave.

Tony always found himself equal parts amused and awed at the instantaneous change that affected Bruce when he walked across that threshold. No longer Bruce Wayne; the Batman was in firm control. His posture straightened, shoulders were thrown back, a confident gait gave way to one of unfailing determination…and then there was all that barely-leashed violence – it was all Tony could do to not pin him up against his car and fuck him senseless. Unfortunately, Batman was stubbornly resistant to all of Tony's blackm… suggestions on the matter. If only Dick had come through with those photos!

The two men approached the mainframe and Bruce took a seat while Tony stood behind him, leaning on the back of the chair. After a few quick flicks of Bruce's fingers – and such nice fingers they were… so very talented in so many ways – J'onn J'onzz appear on the main screen.

"Batman, thank you. I apologize for disturbing you on your night off, but I am afraid that an emergency has arisen in Metropolis."

Tony snorted in disbelief, "What could possibly be so terrible that Superbore couldn't take care of it?"

"What is it usually? Luthor, Kryptonite, or a combination of the two," Bruce responded wryly.

"Indeed, you are correct, Batman," J'onn replied, "Luthor and his Injustice Gang set up an ambush for Superman. They are all armed with Kryptonite. I'm afraid I have not been able to contact him since early into the attack, either through his communicator or mentally. Something on the ground is blocking communications and our teleporters. Wonder Woman, Flash and Green Lantern are all currently en route, but I believe you assistance will also be required."

Tony rolled his eyes and straightened, folding his arms over his chest then looking off to the side. "Of course it will. Heaven forbid the Justice League scratch their noses without Batman having to tell them how."

Bruce didn't even turn around. "Tony, enough," he stated, his voice flat and all business. "I'm on my way, J'onn. Give me about ten minutes, then transport me as close as you can to Superman's last known location."

"Teleport **us** to the Boy Scout's last known location," Tony corrected, glaring at J'onn as if daring him to complain.

"Very well," J'onn agreed, ending the transmission before he could become embroiled in the imminent lovers' quarrel.

Bruce swiveled in his chair until he faced the other man. "There's no need for you to come along, Tony. The League will be more than able to handle this."

"That's not what it sounds like to me. Your heaviest hitter is already out of action. That leaves you at something of a disadvantage. Besides, the last time you went off on a League mission you wound up with a broken arm and **two** gunshot wounds."

"I don't need a babysitter!" Bruce snarled, standing up from his chair and moving face to face with Tony.

"I never said you did."

"It was implied."

Tony sighed, running his right hand through his dark hair, yanking on it slightly before turning pleading eyes on his lover. "Bruce, that's not it. Look, I just worry, all right? When I'm not out there with you…I don't trust anyone else to watch your back like I do. Besides, what's the harm? I'm here, I'm a fellow superhero – even if I don't belong to the League - and I'll just be sitting here bored out of my mind until you get back."

Dammit, a grown man shouldn't be able to be so proficient with puppy dog eyes. Particularly a grown man as decidedly not innocent as Tony Stark. "Fine," Bruce grumbled. After living with Dick, one would think he'd have developed a better tolerance for that particularly despised weapon.

"Excellent!" Tony cried, smiling widely. Bruce gave up. There was just no staying mad with the man.

The two started donning their respective costumes, Bruce assisting Tony with his. "You do realize this is ridiculous. I could be done already. Seriously, why won't you let me install…"

"You are not building an automatic suiting machine in the cave."

"But why?" Tony whined, sounding disturbingly like a five year old. "There's plenty of room…"

"Because I said no," Bruce replied. In truth he had initially not granted permission because he hadn't actually expected their relationship to last and he didn't want to have the reminder of another failure gathering dust. He still had trouble believing they had been together for over two years.

Bruce was determined to never admit it out loud, but his current reluctance to allow the device to be built into the cave had more to do with superstition than anything else. He was afraid - as much as it disgusted him - that to allow Tony's devices to be brought into the manor, to officially insinuate that he anticipated that sort of permanency in their relationship, would be to draw fate's attentions back onto him. The only result of which he could see being the abrupt and heartrending end to the happiness he had finally found. He wasn't willing to take that chance.

"I'm just saying…" Tony continued, putting on his gloves while Bruce tightened the last few screws on the breastplate.

"Tony, please. Drop it." From the sharp glance Tony sent his way, Bruce knew he had failed to keep the desperation completely out of his voice… or else Tony had become disturbingly apt at reading his emotions.

Miraculously, Tony bit back the reply Bruce could see on the tip of his tongue. He shrewdly regarded Bruce for a brief eternity, his intelligent brown eyes seeming to take in Bruce's entire being with that one look. Bruce quickly turned to the helmet resting on a nearby table to hide from those piercing, too-knowing eyes.

"Alright, Bruce. I'll drop it. For now…"

As only Tony could, he changed the subject immediately, diffusing the tense atmosphere as if he had opened a window. "Am I the only one who finds it funny that two guys without superpowers are heading off to help the most powerful man on the planet?"

"You're hardly powerless, Tony," Bruce pointed out wryly as he handed the helmet to the other man.

A cocky grin was shot his direction, and Bruce suddenly realized with a sinking feeling that he had walked right into another one of Tony's bad puns.

"True, but somehow I doubt my incredible sexual prowess will be of much help given the situation."

Bruce just shook his head and sighed in resignation. Sometimes, he found that was all he could do when confronted with the tragedy that was Tony's sense of humor.

"Oh, come on. That was worth a least a raspy, growled 'now isn't the time, Stark'." Turning to his companion, Tony grabbed Bruce's upper arm and pulled him closer. When Bruce turned towards the other man, a look of inquiry on his face, he was met with a penetrating, thoughtful gaze. "You're not sick, are you?"

Bruce's eyes rolled practically of their own accord. "Of course not."

Tony considered Bruce skeptically, far too familiar with his habit of denying any and all ailments. Tightening the grip he had on Bruce's arm, he reached his left hand up and felt Bruce's forehead.

He gave said hand a confused glance when he didn't feel anything. "Oops." With that he pulled back both hands, removed his glove, and replaced his left hand on Bruce's forehead.

"You don't feel hot," Tony admitted, surprised. He regarded his hand skeptically, then placed it on his own forehead for a moment before holding it against Bruce's again.

"Would you stop that," Bruce grumbled, slapping Tony's hand off of his forehead irritably. "I told you, I'm not sick."

"Of course you'd say that. That's what you always say when you're sick."

"Tony, I'm not…"

"But I would have thought Alfred would have said you weren't feeling well when I came in."

"Tony, I'm fine."

"You have been working a lot, though. And I know you; you never get enough sleep. Are you tired? You look tired. Maybe we should tell J'onn they're on their own this time…"

Finally Bruce gave up and shut Tony up in the only way he knew how.

Several minutes later they drew apart, both gasping for air and more than a little aroused from the kiss. While it had started out chaste, it had quickly entered into the realm of hot, heavy, and inappropriate for small children – as most of their activities tended to do.

"I'm not sick, Tony."

"I would hope not, after kissing me like that. It would be terribly irresponsible of you, risking **my** health like that."

Before Bruce could form a reply his Justice League communicator went off. "Batman, this is J'onn. Are you ready for teleportation?"

Bruce stared for a long moment at Tony, then shook his head. It just wasn't worth it. "Yes, J'onn," he answered while Tony quickly sneaked another kiss on the corner of his mouth as he was pulling up his cowl. The other man gave a smug smirk when Bruce's retaliatory fist hit the metallic suit before finally putting his helmet in place. "We're ready. Go ahead and transport."

******

By the time they arrived at the scene the battle was already well underway. Superman was on the ground in a corner of the old warehouse, being protected by Wonder Woman from Luthor and the Ultra-Humanite. The Flash and Green Lantern were doing their best to fight off the rest of the Injustice Gang, but it was clear that assistance was badly needed.

"See, I told you you'd need my help," Tony's slightly metallic voice gloated.

"Just go help Wonder Woman," Bruce growled, noting that Grundy had gotten past the other League members and was on his way towards the supine Kryptonian. Raising his right hand, Batman shot his grappling gun into the rafters thirty feet above and rose quickly through the air, his cape streaming behind him like a dark river.

"Sir, yes sir." Tony gave a mock salute to the ceiling and turned towards the Amazon, shooting Grundy away before he could attack the defenseless Man of Steel. Rocketing into the air Iron Man flew straight at the zombie, hitting him in the gut just as he got back to his feet.

Diana spared a quick glance at Tony as he raced past her. "Iron Man?! What are you doing here?"

"What, can't a guy stop by to save a beautiful woman without getting the third degree?"

Even Luthor paused to give him a disbelieving stare at that.

He sighed in resignation. Was a little respect really so much to ask? "Fine, fine. I was in the neighborhood and figured I'd lend a hand."

******

As Tony helped Wonder Woman fend off Luthor and the Ultra-Humanite he noticed Batman take out Shade with a pair of bolas he let fly from a shadowed corner of the rafters. More than happy to not have to watch out for the shadow master any longer, Tony turned his full attention back to his own battle just in time to block a blow from Luthor. Bringing his free hand up to bear, he used a pulse of energy to throw Luthor across the room and give himself some breathing room.

It was quickly becoming obviously that even with his help, the Justice League was outnumbered. The chaos of the battle was playing into the hands of the Injustice Gang. The only option Tony could see was to get Superman away from the Kryptonite or to get the Kryptonite away from Superman.

He doubted that the second option would be easily achievable; each of their opponents had a large hunk of the stone strapped to each arm just below their biceps. Then there was Lex to consider. In his suit, the man was like a walking Kryptonite mine. Tony was confident that Bruce would figure something out, however. He always did…

"You really need to pick up some better hobbies, Lex," Tony drawled as the two billionaires sized each other up.

Luthor looked at Tony as if he were something stuck to the bottom of his shoes – Tony was of the opinion that that was Lex's default expression. "This coming from the alcoholic playboy pathetically trying to make up for all the deaths his company has caused? I think I'll keep my own counsel regarding how to spend my time."

"Suit yourself," Tony shrugged, refusing to let the other man bait him – though his heart did hurt at the reminder of his sins. Without further delay he lifted off and flew towards Lex, the other man following an instant later. They came together with a metallic crash, exchanging blows with ferocious intensity.

They were both jarred out of their battle a few minutes later when Grundy went flying by, nearly hitting them both. Pausing, the two combatants turned to look in the direction from which the projectile had come and saw Batman and Wonder Woman standing protectively near Superman's supine form.

Wonder Woman was in the process of deflecting several of Star Sapphire's blasts with her bracelets, sending them back at the villainess and forcing her into a series of aerial acrobatics to avoid being hit by her own attack.

Batman took the opportunity to send three batarangs as Sapphire, the second and third delayed for a few seconds. She saw the first approach and blasted it to pieces with her energy beam, however it was obvious that Bruce had anticipated this action. The other batarangs, hidden by the explosive destruction of the first, approached undetected until it was too late and struck Sapphire, dazing her and giving Green Lantern the opportunity to grab her with a giant ring-made hand.

Just as Tony was turning back to Luthor he heard Bruce shout, "Flash, now!" Looking back at his lover Tony saw several smoke bombs hit the ground as Bruce continued his instructions. "Get Superman out of here! Lantern, cover him!"

"Got it, Bats!" the speedster replied, at Superman's side and lifting the larger man before Batman had finished his orders. Green Lantern did his part, creating a barrier to prevent the other villains from reaching Flash before he could escape. Wally took advantage of the dual distractions and immediately made his way for the nearest exit door.

"Not so fast, you irritating fool," Luthor snarled. From his position he was unencumbered by Green Lantern's barrier and leapt towards the fleeing hero. Tony tried to intercept him but Luthor was able to dodge his attack and landed in front of the Flash, causing him to pull to a sudden stop. "Superman's not leaving here except on a coroner's slab."

"I don't think so," a dangerous growl came from behind Luthor. The evil genius was suddenly flung backwards - landing in a heap on the floor to reveal Batman gracefully resuming a standing position after flipping the villain. Tony was quite thankful for the metal suit in which he was currently attired – there were very few things on the planet he found hotter than a dangerous Batman in his element.

Bruce looked over to Wally. "Get out of here," he ordered as he turned to face Luthor, who had regained his feet and had an expression of overwhelming hatred on his face.

"Don't have to tell me twice," the Flash grimaced and took off, carrying Superman in a fireman's hold over his shoulder - more than happy to leave the crazed foe to Batman.

Luthor made to move past Bruce, still focused on Superman. "Out of my way!"

Bruce's eyes narrowed. Just as Luthor was about to exit the warehouse an explosive batarang blew him backwards and he once again landed supine on the ground. Batman's form, radiating menace, loomed over his own. "Your fight is with me, Luthor."

Luthor's lips curled in contempt. "Batman," he jeered, "playing the good little lapdog for the alien as always." With surprising agility the villain rolled backwards, giving himself room to quickly scramble to his feet, and faced off against the Dark Knight.

Bruce didn't grace Luthor's comment with a response, though Tony could tell from his body language that he was irritated. He readied himself for an attack, only to jump to the side suddenly, leaving Star Sapphire's energy blast to crash into the concrete floor, sending shrapnel flying.

Luthor brought his arms up to shield his face as several shards flew by. "Watch it, you idiot!"

Sapphire spared him a sneer before turning back to Batman just in time to send out a blast to intercept the batarang flying at her. As Batman and Sapphire battled Tony noticed that Luthor had decided to take advantage of the distraction and was once again making his way towards the building's exit. He quickly fired at the other man, but was irritated to see him manage to dodge the attack at the last second. Tony had succeeded in turning his attention away from Superman, however.

"Seriously, Lex, have you considered getting help for this obsession of yours? It can't be healthy."

Luthor snarled as his hands formed into tight fists at his sides. "You don't understand. None of you naïve fools can see how dangerous that alien…"

Suddenly the sound of thunder shook the warehouse. The fighting stopped as the combatants all turned towards the origin of the noise.

"Surprise!" cried the Joker, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere. "Uncle Joker's here!" Giggling madly, he twirled on one foot while gesticulating wildly with his arms - one of which held a large handgun.

"Batman!" the disbelieving cry was torn from multiple throats at once as they watched the Dark Knight plummet to the ground like a dying bird, the black wings of his cape fluttering helplessly in his wake.

Mad laughter echoed as the Joker stepped up to Bruce's fallen form, kicking him several times in the side…gaining no reaction. "Ding dong…the big Bat's dead!"

Despair choked the hearts of the rest of the League and they fought to free themselves from their individual foes, frantic to reach their comrade.

Seeing the indomitable Bat fall, however, revitalized their opponents. With the World's Finest both out of commission the members of the Injustice Gang were confident that they would carry the day and they each viciously renewed their battles, determined to be the next to bring down a League member. It was all the heroes could do to keep themselves from joining their fellows in incapacitation, and they fought as best they could with their hearts so heavy.

Except for one.

Tony froze as he watched Bruce hit the ground – his heart stopped beating as he watched his world end. "No!" he cried. This could not be happening. He refused to believe it. And yet there was the proof before his eyes, insanely prancing about in a victory dance over Bruce's fallen body – taunting and laughing and insulting…

Tony's mind went blank as a red haze enveloped it.

Mindlessly he took off towards his lover, completely ignoring the Ultra-Humanite – his previous opponent - until the primate made the mistake of attacking him. Tony completely ignored the hit he took to the shoulder of his armor and continued implacably on his path. When the Ultra-Humanite attacked again Tony raised both hands, palms pointed towards the villain, and let loose with a full power blast at close range. The Ultra-Humanite was propelled backwards, not stopping until he hit a stacked pile of boxes along the opposite wall of the warehouse. The boxes collapsed around him, but he was unaware of his predicament – the sheer intensity of the initial hit had knocked him out.

Tony continued towards his goal, eyes only on Bruce, mind only registering the lifeless stillness of his body.

The Joker saw him coming and fired his gun at him. That gun… that **damned** gun - the same weapon that had kill… hurt Bruce. Once again Tony ignored the damage dealt him, not even noticing as bullets rang against metal – his specially designed armor more than a match for anything up to and including missile fire. He finally arrived at Bruce's side. Before the clown could react he reached out and grabbed the now-empty gun, pulling it from his hand – idly noticing as he did how delicate those hands were – the hands of an artist, not a killer…

A metal-clad fist closed and the gun was crushed, falling to the ground in a useless hunk.

"Now, now Tin Grin – let's not do anything we'd regret…"

Tony could hear the unease in the Joker's voice. He knew that should concern him – a being such as the Joker fearing him – but he couldn't bring himself to care. If he allowed himself to do so his emotions would run wild, and he was so comfortable in his current numbness. He could vaguely feel panic and heartrending pain off in the distance, waiting for the slightest hint of an opening through which to attack. But he couldn't allow himself to be weak. Not yet…not while Bruce needed him…

With the speed of a snake the Joker reached into an inner jacket pocket and pulled out another gun, but Tony slapped it away before he got a single shot off. Iron Man slowly walked forwards, forcing the clown back until his back hit a wall.

"Can't you take a jo…erk…"

The Joker's words were cut off as Tony reached out with his left arm and grabbed the clown around the throat, yanking him off the ground and holding him against the wall behind him. The Joker's hands came up to grab at the arm, tugging at it fruitlessly and Tony's fingers clenched, tightening his hold on the delicate flesh.

"Kill…ing me…wo…n't br…ing…back," the Joker taunted, chuckles forcing their way through his constricted throat. "from…bel…fry in sky…"

Without conscious direction from Tony's mind his right hand flew out, his fist striking the Joker in the cheek with all the power he could muster. He could hear bones break, could see the flesh split and blood come leaking from the wound but these were distant concerns. He drew his fist back and struck again… and again… and again… until the hands that had been rabidly clawing at his arm fell away and the body he held went limp.

And still his arm continued to strike - its trajectory altering but never its force – intent on destroying the being before it… erasing him completely from the universe.

The face before him was now unrecognizable – a mangled bloody mass topped by stringy green hair. Arms hung at odd angles and the chest was visibly caved in even covered as it was with shirt and jacket.

His arm cocked back again, preparing to deliver yet another blow…

…and then Bruce groaned.

As if wakened from a dream Tony's mind cleared suddenly, the fog of shock making way for worry and anguish. "Bruce," he whispered, unable to force anything more from frozen vocal chords, and dropped what was left of the Joker unnoticed to the ground.

Tony yanked his helmet off and threw it to the side unconcernedly, then collapsed next to his lover - his legs refusing to support him any longer. Tony's heart was lodged firmly in his throat. Though he could now see that Bruce's chest was rising and falling, it was of little reassurance. The terrible rasping that accompanied each frantic breath made it harshly clear just how serious the situation was. Tony found his own breathing picking up speed as panic set in and he found himself almost wishing the former insensate haze would return to his mind.

"No," he sobbed, pulling Bruce into his arms as best he could without moving him excessively for fear of spinal injuries. "Please, no."

The damned clown - intimately familiar with the Batman and his arsenal - had used armor-piercing bullets in his gun, and the shot had sliced through his chest protector as if it was made of tissue paper. There was so much blood. Already the fabric covering Bruce's chest was darkened with the liquid, the bat symbol almost indistinguishable against the now nearly black uniform. And still it oozed from the gaping wound. The metallic smell sickened him, causing his stomach to rebel.

A nightmare – it had to be a nightmare. Any second now he'd wake up. Bruce would be shaking him while complaining about his tossing and turning but his face would show his genuine concern...

_Please_… it had to be a dream…

"You can't die, B," Tony cried, tightening his hold on the other man as if to anchor his spirit - to prevent him from leaving. "You can't do this to me. We were supposed to grow old and grey together."

Tony's breath caught on a sob as he reached for the black cowl, desperate to see his lover's face, to look into those fathomless blue eyes that had first drawn him to the man.

"N…no…" the weak, raspy demand stilled his hand.

"Br…Batman!" Tony cried, a jolt of hope resonating through his body in spite of what logic told him. Bruce was awake and alert – he would be fine. It might take him a few weeks to recuperate – and he would surely drive everyone crazy with his whining during his convalescence – but he would be fine.

Bruce coughed – harsh, racking wheezes that left his mouth reddened with blood. "Leave…mask. Not…here…"

Of course. What was Tony thinking? He had been about to unmask Batman in the middle of a battle. That would make it impossible for Bruce to take the cowl back up again after he healed, to say nothing of the hell it would make his civilian life.

"Don't worry, B. The mask stays on."

A little of the tension left Bruce's form at that. "Good. After…tell…A to…initiate…Omega sequence…"

The panic and despair surged back, overwhelming Tony. The long-withheld tears finally broke free and tracked silver trails down his face as his heart was shredded in his chest. "B…no. No! You're going to be alright. We'll get you fixed up and before you know it you'll be out terrorizing criminals and Superman again."

Bruce's head shifted. Tony knew that behind the blank white lenses those beloved blue eyes were taking him in, analyzing every nuance so the lightening quick mind could come up with the proper response. He pulled Bruce closer. How was he supposed to survive without Bruce there beside him?

"Tony…" Bruce muttered, one hand slowly - so agonizingly slowly for a man as vital as Batman - rose to grasp Tony's, "I'm not…"

"No. Stop right there! I'm not going to listen to this. Robin needs you, A needs you - I need you! You can't die. You just can't!" Tony cried, tightening his hold on the other man as if to anchor his spirit - to prevent his departure through sheer stubbornness. "I'm not going to let you leave me!"

Tony carelessly replaced his helmet and then picked up Bruce a gently as he could. Holding him firmly against his chest he took to the skies. Without the stabilization of his glove jets he was forced to go slower than he would have preferred, but he continued his unerring path away from the battle. He sent a continuous SOS signal through his communications system on the League's channel. Once they were far enough away from whatever was blocking transmissions he would have J'onn teleport them to the Watchtower.

His heartbeat was racing as he struggled to monitor Bruce, pay attention to where he as flying and desperately attempted to raise the J'onn. It was difficult - all he wanted to focus on was his lover – hurt and bloody but breathing… still breathing… please let him keep breathing…

Tony's face was set in a stubbornly determined frown. Bruce would be alright. He had to be – Tony would not accept any other outcome. And as Bruce himself could attest, when Tony Stark wanted something, he got – one way or another.


	7. Esurient

Disclaimer: Unless you don't recognize them, I don't own them. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment.

Word of the Day: Esurient

\ih-SUR-ee-uhnt; -ZUR-\, adjective: Hungry, greedy.

******

Bruce couldn't hold back the groan as he finally collapsed into his bed after a long night of patrol. His body ached from hours of being pushed beyond normal endurance and his head throbbed from unrelenting stress and irritation.

It had been a particularly frustrating evening. In addition to several attempted muggings and robberies that he had stopped that night, the Joker had escaped from Arkham… again… and the resulting chaos had only made a rotten night even worse. Bruce had managed to stop the Joker from setting off his toxic gas at the visiting carnival, but the bastard had gotten away thanks to the unwitting interference of the police.

Not that Bruce could really blame them. It was by his own choice that he was considered just as evil as, if not worse than, the Joker. His decisions were weighing on him more and more as time went by, however. He had honestly thought that by now he would have made some sort of difference, that Gotham would have been brought at least a little closer to the light that she had shunned for so many years.

If anything, his Lady was even darker than ever.

He often found himself questioning his decision to become the Batman. Had Jim been right? Was he responsible for this escalation? Had he unknowingly started a chain reaction that would eventually lead to the destruction of the very thing he was trying to save?

He groaned again, pulling the covers over his head and burying his weary head in his pillow in an attempt to shut out the world for even a moment. In a little under three hours he would need to get up again, this time heading out as Bruce Wayne to remind the world of just how shallow and ignorant he was. Just to provide a cover for a secret he wasn't sure he wanted to keep anymore.

He didn't want to live like this, but he no longer knew of another way. He had molded himself into this being to keep a promise he had made to his parents – to himself – but never had he imagined the cost would be so high. Gotham needed so much, and he was just one man. He worked as hard as he could… gave as much as was possible… and still it never seemed to be enough. It felt like he was pouring his soul into a bottomless chasm, with no hope of ever making any progress towards filling it.

But if he gave up… stopped being the Batman… could he even do that? It seemed at times that the Batman was the only real part of himself left. Bruce Wayne was little more than a mask – a gaudy distraction. What would be left of him, if he denied himself the Bat?

And what of Gotham? He already had so many lives on his conscience. There was no guarantee that eliminating the Batman from the equation would halt the reaction at this point. Things had already been set in motion. If he gave up, and even more people suffered for it… he would never survive that guilt.

No. He would see this through. It was too late to turn back now. He would continue on… continue giving of himself… and hope that one day it would be enough to satisfy his Lady.

He would see Gotham back into the light, no matter the price.


End file.
